Once a Upon a Spell
by Pyro Bear
Summary: A spell sends four BuffyAngel characters into the memories and lives of people at Hogwarts: as little children.
1. The Fanged Gene Pool

CYA Statement: I don't own 'em, and niether do you. This is a challenge given to me by a friend. Enjoy. We've got little kids abounding. Jen-Jen is an awesome person who is a consultant....meaning she's not a full beta, but she pretty much helps me if I have rough spots. Thank you muchly Jen-Jen.   


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Cordelia blinked as she sat up. Popping her thumb into her mouth, she looked around the room she was in. It so wasn't her apartment. Looking down, she pulled her thumb from her mouth with a large 'POP!'. She blinked again, what was wrong with her? She hadn't sucked her thumb in a long time, way before she had entered kindergarten. 

After forcing her hands into her lap, Cordelia tried to figure out where the hell she was. Looking about the room, she noticed it was decorated tastefully, she decided, with lots of cream and a few pastels. Not exactly, her cup of tea, but it could have been worse. A few toys were scattered around the floor and a large bear lay on the bed. 

Crossing her arms across her chest, she blinked and looked down. "I don't have boobs," she stated out loud. "I don't have boobs, I've always had boobs." Her hands traveled to her hair. It was_ long_. Her mouth dropped open. "This is a spell Cordelia," she told herself. "It's always a spell." 

"Cordelia, you're up," a man came into the room, dressed completely in black, with sallow skin and stringy black hair. His crooked nose completed the severe and imposing air about him. When he heard the word spell, his eyes narrowed. "What have I told you about using magic?" 

Looking up at the man, Cordelia's mind began to shout 'Vampire! Run! Stake it!' Her hand went about her throat, and she was relieved when she found a cross beneath her fingers. "It is not a toy, it's a weapon," they recited at the same time. Cordelia wrinkled her nose; where had _that_ come from? Finally, she was back in control of her voice. "S-s-stay b-b-back," she stuttered as she scuttled back towards the corner, trying to get away from this vampire look-alike. 

Severus Snape sighed, "For the last time Cordelia. I am not a vampire. No, I do not care what McGonagall's brat of a grandson told you," he looked down at her. 

She searched around for anything wooden, finding a stake that looked slightly childlike under a pillow; she hurled it at him. It bounced harmlessly off of him. "But you look like a vampire," Cordelia accused.   


Paravati Patil and Lavender Brown were in the first floor's female lavatory during their break between classes. They were currently discussing the latest bit of gossip that was floating about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

"I can't believe they're just going to let that girl in here," Lavender sighed as she pulled out a mirror to make sure her make-up was in place. 

"I know!" Paravati exclaimed as she too checked her own make-up. "I don't care if she's a little kid, but with parents like hers, she could easily murder us in our sleep. 

"Maybe Minister Fudge is right," Lavender conceded as her mirror snapped shut. "Maybe Professor Dumbledore is senile and crazy." 

The toilet flushed and Hermione Granger came out of a nearby stall. "Whose coming to Hogwarts?" she asked, curious. She, as Head Girl, should never partake in idle gossip, was curious.   


Lavender and Paravati looked at one another. Hermione had never tried to partake in their gossip before, but she did deserve to know. She was Harry Potter's best friend, and the girl's father had killed his parents. 

"A girl is coming to Hogwarts," Paravati explained, "Under Headmaster Dumbledore's protection. But the thing is, her father is Sirius Black." 

Hermione paled slightly. Sirius Black's daughter was coming to Hogwarts? "Harry," she whispered softly. "Thank you so much, I'll be sure to tell him," Hermione said briskly before bustling out of the bathroom, eager to find her best friends and tell them the important news.   


Spike ran out of one of the many doors that lead out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Grams was busy having students in class. So, he was free, and it was fun, fun, fun. Spying players on the quidditch field, he ran toward it. 

Quidditch was his favorite game ever. He wanted to be a beater in a real live professional team when he grew up. When he told Grams he wanted to play for forever and ever, she just sorta smiled and patted him on the head. 

He hated when she did that. 

Peeking out from the stands, Spike watched the Gryffindor team. His favorite was Harry Potter. Harry was always nice to him. Harry never treated him like a little kid; he liked Harry's friend Ron too. Spike wrinkled his nose. He didn't like Hermione. She always acted like she was the boss of him. 

Growing tired of watching the team practice, Spike moved on to the broom shed. He loved to fly; besides, it wasn't like he was doing it unsupervised. There were lots of people out here. 

He had flown once unsupervised; it was fun at the time. He and Cordy, his best friend had done it. He didn't like girls; they were icky. But Cordy and Grams didn't count; they were sorta like ice cream. 

He loved ice cream. Once he had been in Diagon Ally and there had been a huge ice cream parlor. Grams took him and he got all the ice cream he could eat. 

As he slipped into a shed, he found a broom that had been carelessly left on the floor. Spike looked at it. "Up!" he commanded happily. 

It stirred for a little bit, but stayed on the ground. 

"Up!" He said, his voice sharper. Nothing happened. He frowned and kicked the broom with his foot angrily. It's not like he really wanted to fly anyway.   


Ron and Harry stood on the quidditch pitch looking at the current Gryffindor team. Harry was seeker, and Ron was keeper. Ginny, in following almost all of her brothers' footsteps, had joined the team, and now played as a chaser. There were two other chasers a fifth and fourth year. Their beaters were good, though not as good as the Weasley twins; the two of them were both in their sixth year, the same as Ginny. 

"That's it for today, remember, we have another practice on Wednesday night!" Ron called out. He and Harry were co-captains, though Harry seemed to run more of it than he did. 

"Harry!" Hermione was running out onto the quidditch pitch, her hair flying behind her. A mail carrier's bag slapped against her legs as she ran. 

Both Ron and Harry turned at the sound of her voice. The rest of the team started to leave, except for Ginny, who stayed behind, to see what was going on. 

"Hermione?" Harry asked as soon as she ran up to them. "What's going on?" 

"I just heard this from Paravati and Lavender," she said, out of breath. The rest looked at her strangely. Hermione, although knowing the two other Gryffindors for year, had never really associated with them. "Stop it," she snapped. "Look, I just heard from Lavender and Paravati that a girl is coming to Hogwarts." 

"So?" Ron asked impatiently, not really understanding where this was going. 

"So, this girl is under Dumbledore's care. She's Sirius' daughter," Hermione informed them. 

"Sirius' daughter?" Harry repeated. "Sirius has a daughter?" He blinked as he tried to process this thought. She was under Dumbledore's care, meaning she probably didn't have parents or family. His heart sank. He had caused her father's death. Waves of pain he had pushed into the back of brain washed over him. He had caused her to become an orphan. 

"Harry?" Hermione touched his shoulder. 

"I'm fine," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's just a surprise, that's all." 

"Oh my god, I'm late!" Hermione said as she looked at her watch. "I have a meeting with the Headmaster in ten minutes!" Quickly she turned, and ran off. 

The trio watched the Head Girl rush off as they walked towards the Gryffindor locker room. 

"Are you looking forward to the first match Harry?" Ginny said, trying to divert his attention away from Sirius and to the present. 

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "It'll be great to be in the air." He looked up, yeah; it would be great to be in the air.   


"You have to take your bath," Severus looked down at the little girl who had her arms folded across her chest, pouting slightly. 

"How about a big fat resounding no?" Cordelia said, pouting even more. By now, she had realized how diminutive her size really was. Besides, she would never have a strange old man wash her. Can you say pedophile? She shook her head; a couple of curls falling into her face. "Get away from me with that towel, long face." 

"Cordelia, you're acting like a child," Severus hissed. 

"I am not a child," Cordelia said, hands on her childlike hips. "I'm Cordelia Chase. I live in LA. With a vampire, and a karaoke demon, a super smart physic nerdette who was stuck in a demon dimension for five years, and… and… and... Gunn!" 

Snape took a step closer to Cordelia, and she stepped backwards involuntarily. 'Think!' her brain screamed at her. She shook her head to clear out her thoughts. "Listen up you, you..." she trailed off, having an insane urge to say 'poopy head' but determined not to do so; she was twenty-three, not four. Besides, she didn't think saying poopy head would help her case all that much. "…you excessively freaky man, I am _not_ four years old, I am _not _someone you can just order around, and I am_ not _your daughter. Think gene pool here." 

"I don't have time for this," Severus declared and picked up the much shorter Cordelia. "What do you see?" He brought her into the bathroom and held her in front of the mirror. 

Cordelia looked at herself. Long dark locks that fell down her back framed pale skin, like a porcelain dolls. She had lost the California complexion she had, since forever, but tanning was supposed to be bad for you, right? She shook her head; primping came later. Freaking out came now. She was in a child's body, not her twenty-three year old one. 

"I see a four year old child who is extraordinarily lucky I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened," he told her. 

Coming back to reality, she started to struggle. "Let go of me!" Cordelia kicked out, her bare feet harmlessly hitting his chest. She kicked harder and noting came about it. She struggled and hit him with her tiny fists. Finally, as a last resort, she bit him. 

"Cordelia Nerissa Snape," Severus snapped, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Cordelia looked up at him, batting her eyes. "Yes?" she asked coyly, her face a mask of childhood innocent. Inside she was planning, calculating. 

"Get in the tub," he snapped before turning on his heel, slamming the door behind him 

Cordelia looked at the bathtub and smiled. It was all in the right buttons to push. She would have to file that away for later. Right now, she had to mull over the fact that she was a child, obviously related to a vampire like man, and that her middle name was Nerissa. She wrinkled her nose; who had come up with _that_? 


	2. Pretty Girl

CYA: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own them, neither do you. Anything you recongnize doesn't belong to me....blah, blah, blah. The challenge was given to me by Jen (gidgetgirl) and she has done so much in helping me make it the best it can be. 

Veggie-Babu-chan: Hadn't thought about it, but you never know. That could so happen. Hehe, Cordelia will do some associating. Too bad Oliver isn't around at the moment. 

Have questions? Ask, I'll get to you someway, and thanks for reading and reviewing. Sorry this too so long! 

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_ she's beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego and_   
_ her killer instinct tells her to, be aware of evil men_   
_ and that's what she gets for falling again_   
_ you can never get 'em out of your head_   


Tara snuck past her father's study on her way to the library. He had guests and she had to be quiet. Very, very quiet. It wasn't hard though; she was always quiet. Her brother sometimes called her a little mouse. She pretended to hate it, but she was always pretending. 

Tara liked to pretend. Sometimes, when she was all-alone, she would pretend she was a princess high up in a tower, waiting for her knight in shining armor. One time her brother had caught her pretending. He had laughed and said she was his princess, and when he came back from school, he was going to buy her a kitten. She wanted a black one, with green eyes. But it was a secret. A secret between her and her brother. They had lots and lots of secrets. 

That's why she was going to the library. She was going to find names in the big history books they had there. She didn't want to name her kitty 'Fluffy' or anything stupid like that. 

"Does everyone understand?" her daddy asked from within the study. Tara stopped and listened. She knew it was wrong, but maybe, just maybe he was planning some kind of party. They always had lots of parties, and she had been able to go to the last couple of them. They were boring, but she loved the way all the ladies looked. Her brother promised her one-day she'd be prettier than any of them. 

"Who exactly are we ordered to dispose of?" a man by the name of Julis Crunlip asked. Tara wrinkled her nose; she didn't like that man. He smelled funny. And always tried to pinch her cheeks when she saw him. Tara hated that. 

Dispose. Her head cocked to the side. What did that word mean? She should know the word. Scowling slightly she tried to come up with the definition. To get rid of! Her face lit up; but soon she scowled again. 

Why did they want to get rid of someone? That didn't sound very nice. Tara shook her head suddenly. Of course not. Daddy would never get rid anyone, even if he did yell at her sometimes. Even if thedarklord, whoever that was, told him to. 

Her father began to list off names. Mad-Eye Moody, Irving Hardinkle, Nmyphadora Tonks, John Cleese, and Arthur Weasley. 

People told Daddy to do stuff all the time, and he didn't do it. Just like the other day, when someone on the street had told him to stay on his side of the road. Daddy sneered at the man, and went on. Daddy did a lot of sneering; she didn't like it. Her brother did too, and that was probably the only thing she didn't like about her brother. He sneered.   


Faith trailed behind the stately looking headmaster. People stared at her as she passed by. She kept her head straight. If she didn't look at them, they didn't exist. And if they didn't exist, they couldn't see her weaknesses. That's what mummy said. If you acted like they didn't exist, they didn't. As she walked through the halls, faces blended into one another. 

She didn't like them staring at her. She wanted to scream at them. Who were they? What did they want? What were they looking at? The questions spun around in her head. Who? What? There was a crash to her left and her head snapped towards it. 

A boy, almost a man really, in the common black school robe worn by all of the students, was scrambling to pick up fallen books and scrolls. A quill lay at Faith's feet. She picked it up and felt the soft tip of the feathered part. She liked soft things. 

"Here," she offered it back to the boy. Her eyes flickered over to is house crest. It was gold and red. She tried to remember which house those colors belong to. She scrunched up her eyes. Nasty dirty Gryffs, her mind echoed. Mummy always said that. Gryffindors were bad, bad people. They were muggle lovers. Muggles were below us; therefore, Gryffindors were below us. She shook her head to clear it. She didn't like lions, or cats. She liked dogs. She used to own one. 

Not really, but a big black one used to visit her when she was little. She called him Digon. She had tried to call him Diagon Ally, cause that's were she first saw him, but it came out Digon instead. He was big, black, and hairy. But he was warm, and her bestest friend. Then he had to go. She missed him lots. She wished Digon would come back. 

"Thank you," the boy said, plucking the quill from her grasp. He gave her a small smile as he tucked it into his pocket. 

Faith didn't respond as she fell back in like with Dumbledore. 

"Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore's twinkling blue gaze fell upon the student. "Could you please inform Mr. Potter to report to my office after class?" 

The boy, Longbottom, nodded as he shifted his books in his arms, making them easier to carry. 

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. Looking around at the surrounding students, his eyes twinkled behind half-moon glasses. "I do believe class start in a short ten minutes. You mustn't be late." 

The on lookers seem to come to life, realizing what a short time they had to get to their next class. Soon only Dumbledore, Faith, and a few students were left in the hall. Dumbledore looked down at the small, pale, raven-haired child. "Lemon drop?" he asked, offering the slightly tart-slightly sweet candy. 

Faith looked it, looked at it for a second, and then popped it in her mouth.   


Cordelia looked at the clothes the vampire-like man had laid out for her. He was looking less and less like a vampire and increasingly like a bat. Maybe he was a relative of Dracula? She had heard Buffy had fought the most vampire in pop culture. The woman turned girl wrinkled her nose, if he was related to Sir Fang A Lot, which meant she was too. 

Can you saw eww? 

She picked up the closest piece of cloth; it was a sock. She examined it. Cordelia tossed it behind her; she really didn't need to wear socks, right? Quickly looking through the carefully laid out clothes, she found the other sock. That was quickly disposed of.   


Neville ran through the door of the potions classroom about thirty seconds before the bell rang. Sighing, he sank down in the seat next to Harry Potter. Though he never excelled in the class, he wanted to become an auror, just like his father. 

"Dumbledore wants to see you in his office after class," Neville whispered as they began to take out their notes on the latest potion that they would be working on the next day. 

As Snape started to lecture, Harry found himself daydreaming. He wondered what Dumbledore wanted. Could it be related to the rumor that Sirius's daughter was in the school? He shook his head to dismiss the idea. When would Sirius have time to father a child? He had gotten out of Azkaban in his third year; he was now in his seventh. In four years time anything was possible. 

Except maybe for this.   


Tara's eyes widened as she heard the names. She thought she recognized one. Hadn't her brother ranted about a teacher by that name? 

"He wants you to kill them. Our lord commands us," her daddy said. Tara's mouth dropped open in surprise. Her daddy kill? He yelled at her, but not kill. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. And she didn't know what to do. 

Her brow furrowed, and she forgot about going to the library. She had to figure out what to do. She knew killing was wrong, but what could she do? Not much. Sometimes she wished she was older, and in school. That way she could fix all of her problems, like her brother. 

Her face lit up. Her brother. He would know what exactly to do. She hurried to the library. There was always a fire in there, and she was sure she knew where Mummy and Father kept the floo powder.   


Minerva McGonagall supposed she was too old for this. Sometimes she had to wonder where her strength of the day came from. That maybe she should have let one of her children take in William, or Spike as he insisted on being called. 

But the she would look down at him, stroking his blonde hair gently, and know she could never do such a thing. She loved the way he called her Grams, how he always seemed to smile, how he had the lofty dream of being a professional quidditch player. 

Speaking of the little imp, the Transfiguration professor wondered where he was.   


Draco Malfoy was bored. And he hated to be bored. Advanced Potions was interesting and all, but the fact they still had to take notes like incompetent first years drove him mad. He was the head boy for Christ sakes! He twirled his quill idly in his figures. 

There were thirty-seven more days left until Christmas break. He should start to shop for his mother and father. He would do it on the next Hogsmead trip. He wondered if there were any stores that would sell the harder things to come by in the little town. 

As Snape began to write on the chalkboard behind him, Draco lazily copied down the notes, looking around the room. 

It wasn't a large class, it was mostly filled with Slyerthins, though a few Ravenclaws dotted the room, there was one Hufflepuff, and of course the Golden Trio, minus Weasel. It seemed as if they had added another, Neville Longbottom, the complete and utter fool he was. 

Though granted there were no daily explosions in the classroom anymore.   


Cordelia wandered through the halls, currently clad in a jumper type dress and a sweater, her feet were in socks. The shoes were too ugly to even think about putting on, so she was stuck in socks, which were currently getting rather dirty. 

She sighed, hopelessly lost. That's what she was. Hadn't she passed that painting five times already? 

"Are you lost dearie?" the painting asked. 

Cordelia jumped back. "You can talk," she stated and shook her head. If she, Cordelia Chase, could be related to so freakishly large bat-person, then why couldn't the paintings move? "I'm not your dearie," Cordelia retorted. 

"Cordy! Cordy!" a voice distracted the little girl and the painting. Cordelia turned her head and saw a little blonde haired boy running towards her. 

"Who are you?" Cordelia snapped. She was getting tired of this. First, the over grown bat and now the overly hyper child. 

"Don't you know me?" the little boy asked. He cocked his head to the side in question. "Did you hit your head?" he inquired. "Or maybe you got hit with a Confusing Charm," his eyes lit up in glee at the chance to figure out a puzzle. "I think fourth years are doing them in charms. Are you sure you don't know me?" 

Cordelia shook her head. What had she gotten herself into?   


Harry's eyes roamed around the potions room. Hermione sat in front of him, hastily scribbling down the words Professor Snape said. Harry told himself to remember to check his own notes against his friend's. Ron sat next to Hermione, playing with the quill in his hand. There was nothing written on his piece of parchment. Harry continued to gaze around the room. 

Eventually he ended up looking at the Slytherin side of the room. Draco Malfoy sat across from him, one row up. From this angle, he could watch the little ferret. Harry could honestly say he hated the guy. Draco Malfoy was head boy this year, and he really did not deserve it. It should have gone to some one like Ron, who actually worked for everything. Draco Malfoy was handed everything, it honestly made him sick. 

Suddenly the fire flared to a brilliant green, capturing the whole class' attention, including Harry as well as Snape. Someone was flooing into the potions room, but who? 

A little blonde girl tumbled out of the fireplace, her pale blonde hair mussed slightly as it hung in a pin straight sheet, hiding her face. She wore a black jumper style dress with what must have been pristine white before her trip through the Floo Network. 

The girl finally realized she was being stared at and looked back. Her eyes widened with fright as she saw the group of sixteen or so teenagers look back at her with curiosity. She made a squeaking sound before hiding behind the closest object, which happened to be Professor Snape. 

It would have been funny at the time; Harry had to admit, if the girl hadn't looked so scared. And just when he thought things couldn't get any stranger, Draco Malfoy stood up, "Tara?" he cried, trying to crane his neck around Snape to get a look at the little girl.   


The obstacles had been removed, the spell had been cast, and the one behind it all, watched them from afar. Children. There was something deliciously evil about it all. 


End file.
